


Now You See Me

by stephanieh



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bad Flirting, Crimes & Criminals, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Family Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pre-Quest, Rated-T for Violence and General Crudeness, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2815436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanieh/pseuds/stephanieh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'I know what I'm asking you to do when I ask you to trust me. I'm no better than a rat to you.' He paused, unclasping his hands from behind his head and leaning across the table towards Dwalin. 'But I also know that you will accept my help. Do you want to know why?'</p><p>Dwalin merely glared, so Nori continued.</p><p>'You'll do anything to protect your king, and trusting me is your only option.'"</p><p>---</p><p>Dwalin finds he's bitten off more than he can chew in more ways than one when he's sent to the underbelly of the Blue Mountains to hunt down a suspected assassin after Thorin's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Thief in the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thorinsmut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/gifts), [Blue_Sparkle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Thorinsmut and Blue_Sparkle, without whom, Nori would still be 'the guy in the back with the weird ass hair' to me.

Dwalin stood in the darkest corner he could find, hiding from Lady Dis. He swore if he was forced to endure one more introduction, one more of those stupidly small sandwiches, one more dance- he would drop dead of boredom.

When Dis had proposed he accompany her to this banquet as a cover for his real purpose, he had accepted out of a sense of duty. He regretted that now. This was clearly a horrible plan.

"Horrible, isn't it?" a high, slightly nasal voice stated from beside him.

Dwalin turned to find he had been joined by one of the Ladies from Ered Luin whom he had been introduced to earlier, whose name he had forgotten.

He had thought her peculiar then, and he thought her peculiar now- with her straight, slightly upturned nose and her downright wispy figure. Were it not for her height and her full, blonde beard, she might have been mistaken for a human woman. As it was she was just a very strange looking dwarf.

He grunted in disinterested agreement before turning back to his lookout for Dis, hoping she would remain distracted by that Lord who was chatting her up for as long as possible. She appeared to be looking for Dwalin, but if he took pity on her he did not act on it. After all, she had left him to dance with that elderly Lady with wandering hands earlier, and Dwalin needed a break.

The hall was packed full of richly dressed dwarves, all busy- eating, talking, drinking, smoking. It was no different than your average dwarfish feast, which only made the pompousness of its participants even more unbearable.

Dwalin was technically a Lord himself, being a cousin to King Thorin- but he had never enjoyed the company of those of equal rank. Most of them had been born fortunate, and treated those who worked for their positions as inferior to themselves. At least the high-born of Erebor had been taught humility young, unlike most of these dwarves, who had never know hardship in their lives. These nobles were known as the sort to shut themselves up in their throne rooms when suffering came to their people. It was a different sort of world, here in the west.

Dwalin longed to be in the communal dining halls with the iron miners, sharing crass jokes and drinking shit ale. He would take their company over that of these Lords and Ladies any day.

"What I wouldn't give for some real food," the Lady at his side continued lightly, undeterred by Dwalin's silence, or his rough demeanor.

He looked at her appraisingly for a moment before replying, "Aye, I was just thinking the same."

"What do you say we ditch this crowd and go out to a nice seedy tavern later, just you and I," she inquired sweetly, smiling in a predatory way that had Dwalin's head spinning for a moment as he searched for a reply.

Luckily, Dis saved him the trouble as she descended into his dark corner, face set in a deep scowl. "Aren't you supposed to be my date," she snapped. "Lord Berin had me pinned for fifteen minutes, talking about how lonely he was with his wife away on a visit to the Iron Hills!"

Dwalin bit back a laugh. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself. I wouldn't want to impede your charm, my Lady."

"Don't 'my Lady' me, you great oaf!" Dis hissed, swatting Dwalin in the arm as he lost control of his mirth. "We are going to dance until he finds himself a new victim on which to unburden his sorrows." And with that she pulled him out onto the floor. 

Only then did Dwalin realize the Lady whom he had been speaking to was no longer there. He looked around the hall as best he could while dutifully keeping pace with Dis in her dancing, but he saw no trace of his Lady. She couldn't have just vanished.

"Did you see the Lady I was speaking with," Dwalin inquired of Dis as they passed by each other.

Dis turned her sharp grey eyes on him inquiringly. "I saw no one."

"You introduced her to me earlier. She was a Lady of Ered Luin, here visiting with her father," he continued, glancing searchingly around the hall once more. "Blonde beard, braided hair, red dress."

"Ah, the Lady Rainar," Dis recalled. "Yes, I have met her before. She spoke for Thorin's character upon our arrival in the West, as she was acquainted with Dain's son, and knew of our troubles." Observing Dwalin's distracted state she asked lightly, "Should I be jealous of this Lady you seem to be so taken with?"

Dwalin shot her an irritated glance. "You forget, _a-feguz zinlaz_ , I am not here as your date. The Lady was acting suspicious."

"That is a fools lead," Dis replied disparagingly. "What motive could she have to attempt an assassination of Ered Luin's nearest ally? What means, at that?"

"Politics are your job, my Lady. I follow what leads I find, nothing less."

Dis sighed. "Someday you're going to have to widen your view of the world, my friend. I suspect it will be a nasty awakening for you."

Dwalin merely rolled his eyes, continuing his visual search. 

Recently, someone had tried to assassinate Thorin as he was walking on night from the King's Hall to his quarters. That had been a fortnight ago, when the delegations of dwarves had just begun arriving for the banquet. Since then, the Guard had made no progress in determining the culprit. It could have been someone from the visiting parties, it could be one of their own people, it could be a hired outsider- he had found no leads. But one thing was for certain, the attempt had been made when the delegations had arrived. It was reasonable to assume that there would be another attempt before their departure.

This was the farewell banquet which Thorin had prepared to send off his fellow Lords and Ladies from their conference. Dwalin had insisted upon his attendance, to guarantee Thorin's safety through the night. But Thorin, difficult as ever, had insisted in return that the other Lords couldn't know of the threat inside his halls. _This conference is to ensure others that trade with the Blue Mountains would be profitable_ , Thorin had argued. _They need to feel we're safe, and therefore, a safe investment_. Dwalin had argued that the trade of these people was not worth risking Thorin's life over, but the King had been as obstinate as an ill-tempered battle ram on the matter. Luckily, Dis had broken in with the suggestion that Dwalin accompany her to the banquet, otherwise Dwalin would've been forced into a position outside the hall- virtually useless if anything were to happen.

His only regret now is that he had been forbidden to bring Grasper and Keeper. _You can't wear battle-axes to a formal banquet_ , Dis had fussed when he had emerged from his quarters to meet her. Instead, she had armed him with a smaller weapon: a ceremonial axe which hung off of his hip- a relic of Erebor. It was decorative enough to pass as formal-wear, yet functional enough to be used in an emergency. Still, it wasn't his axes. He missed the familiar weight of them on his shoulders. It was as if he were missing an arm, and he was alarmed every time he turned his head to the side and did not see their blades out of the corner of his eye.

The dance ended and Dis excused herself to go accompany her brother on the steps before the throne during his farewell address. Dwalin took up a position near the wall which allowed him a good view of the hall, scanning the crowd for any and every possible hiding place in the large room. If anything was going to happen, it would happen now, while Thorin was perched on a pedestal for all to see. He saw the other guardsmen in disguise taking up similarly effective positions.

That was when a pale, long fingered hand crept over Dwalin's shoulder, twisting him around to face the Lady Rainar. Before Dwalin could react, she kissed him. 

Her lips were soft, thin, moving heatedly against his own, as her hands slid down his stomach towards his… axe!

And with a predatory smile, she ran.

Dwalin followed. 

He sprinted after the Lady as she burst out of the doors of the Hall, bashing the heavy slabs into the guards who had been posted there, knocking them out cold. She ran down the walk, shoving through the crowds of dwarves which had gathered to watch the Lords and Ladies of the delegations retreat to their quarters when the banquet was done.

"Catch that thief!" he yelled, shoving his way through the gawking crowd.

One or two were lucid enough to grab at the passing Lady, but she was too quick. She moved like a snake, weaving through the crowd with more dexterity that Dwalin would've thought possible for a dwarf, especially a noble one.

She turned down a dark side street, and Dwalin rounded the corner just in time to witness the most incredible transformation he was likely to ever see.

Peeling away several skin colored pieces of tape and flying out of the red dress- a pile of cloth, hair, and two water bags was all that was left behind of the Lady Rainar. In her place was a lithe, young dwarf with a long mane of bright red hair, who launched from the ground and up onto the rooftops, scaling fences and pipes higher and higher until reaching the top of the buildings, disappearing from sight.

Dwalin was left standing in the gutter, gaping after the thief, completely confused.

They found the real Lady Rainar locked in her quarters, perfectly unharmed aside from a her injured pride at being treated so. Her father was quick to question the security of the kingdom under the insistence of his weeping daughter. And so, Thorin lost the trade agreement which he had worked so long and hard for at the hands of a petty thief.

Or that was what Dwalin believed. Thorin was not so convinced.

"They were clearly the assassin," Thorin growled from his seat on the throne, tapping his fingers against the stone armrest in agitation. "What other reason would a thief have for sneaking around in such a high profile event if they were not there for a higher purpose?"

"My King," Dwalin growled, pressing the issue. "I don't think that thief is the one. There would have been a thousand opportunities to kill you throughout the night, and yet they did not attempt it. And what use was it to use a disguise themselves as a Lady with no affiliation to you? It doesn't make any sense."

"And yet they are the only suspect," Thorin shot back. "Find the thief. Bring them to me."

"It could be one of thousands of petty thieves hiding in the undercity! You would rather me chase them down then continue the search for the culprit after your life?"

Thorin gave Dwalin a deadly look which told him he had gone too far. When they were on the sparring range they were friends, but in here Thorin was his King.

Dwalin said nothing more, simply bowed- submitting to his king's will. Perhaps Dis would be around to talk some sense into him later. But for now, Dwalin would have to abide by his king's wishes, and hunt down this thief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone wonders, this was all inspired by [this post](http://earlgreyhaught.tumblr.com/post/104518510130/ppitte-winchesterlicious-hobbitimania).


	2. A Long Hunt

To say Dwalin lay awake nights thinking about the thief would be an exaggeration. Or at least, that's what he insisted to himself as he guzzled down two cups of tea in quick succession over breakfast one morning, trying to make up for his lack of sleep.

Balin gave him a peculiar look from over his spoonful of oats. "I didn't know you liked tea," he inquired, raising his white brows.

"I don't," Dwalin growled. He stood, straightening his guard uniform and nodding to his brother before heading out the door. 

It didn't make any sense. There were more effective, less elaborate ways to kill a king than what the Thief had done. And yet, if they had not been trying to assassinate the King, why _had_ they been at that banquet? What reason could a petty thief have for invading such a high profile event, only to spend their time robbing guards? The fact that they had chosen to commit such a crime at the same time an assassin was running about the mountain shouldn't be a coincidence, and yet… something about it didn't seem quite right to Dwalin. 

The visiting nobles of nearby kingdoms had left days ago, and no further attempt had been made on Thorin's life. So either the assassin had given up and left with the others, or the threat lay within their halls still. Dwalin doubted anyone who would attempt to assassinate a king would be so easily daunted by one failure, so he was betting on the latter.

Which meant it was only a matter of time before they tried again and Thorin might not be so lucky next time. Dwalin had doubled the guard on the king, but he wouldn't rest easy until he had found the threat, and neutralized it.

He rounded the corner into the King's Hall, heading towards the door that lead to the Guard's Headquarters, exchanging a friendly nod with Thorin as he passed the throne room. Settling himself behind his desk, he forwent the miscellany of reports and headed straight to the documents concerning the hunt for the Thief.

He leafed through the stack of folders, only to find that case file empty. 

Sighing, he ran a hand heavily over his face. He'd sent a batch of his men out for the Thief days ago! Not one of them had found a _single thing?_  

"Gwerin," Dwalin barked, summoning one of the guardsmen from the other room.

"Sir," the dwarf acknowledged as he reported before Dwalin's desk.

"Take over for me," Dwalin ordered. "I'm heading this case." He slammed the empty folder concerning the Thief onto his desk before abandoning his seat- ignoring the stricken expression of the other dwarf and heading back out into the mountains.

It was high time to get some _real_ work done.

 

Dwalin squatted in a dark alleyway, axe in hand- waiting for the right moment to give the signal. His heart hammered against his ribs, and the smell of still water which permeated the undercity assaulted his nostrils, but he felt better than he had in years. 

 _This_ is why he became a guardsman, not to sit behind some desk all day, filing and organizing and bossing other people around. Managing others had always been what Thorin did best. The hot thrill of a chase, where criminals could be thrown behind bars, and the law would win out- that was what Dwalin lived for. And if he should fail to deliver justice to his enemy then he would fall fighting, knowing he had done what was right. There was no place for the uncertainty of politics in a guard's line of work. There is only what is and what isn't, right and wrong- the law and the lawbreakers.

Recently they had caught wind of a cache in one of the old store houses, and reason pointed to it being their Thief's own. It was outside that room they waited, squatting in the dark, waiting for Dwalin's command. 

There was a whole slew of unused rooms in this part of the Blue Mountains. This particular store house used to hold the supplies for the miners who worked in the old city, before all the usable iron had been used and the place had become home to criminals and other, stranger things.

He was sure they had the Thief this time.

Dwalin gestured his troops to their positions surrounding the store house, shifting Grasper higher in his grip and tensing like a cat before he pounced. With a cry, he led the charge- bursting through the doors into the little room to find… nothing. 

The cry died on the lips of the guards as they lowered their weapons, staring at rows upon rows of empty shelves, scattered aimlessly around the obviously abandoned storage room. Dwalin gave a frustrated shout, driving his axe through the rotting wood of the shelves. 

The other guards shuffled around trying to seem like they hadn't noticed the shelving collapse. They were unused to seeing Dwalin loose his head in frustration. He was known for his ferocity, but also for his control over it.

He recovered with some effort, ordering his troops curtly back up to the new city, to start the hunt all over again.

 

Dwalin exhausted all the traditional forms of a dwarfhunt and he was back behind his desk, sitting with his hands clenched in front of him, glaring at the wall.

"Sir," Gwerin peeped from the doorway.

Dwalin turned to him, still seething from the thoughts running around in circles in his mind. The lack of sleep had done little for the quality of his company, and Gwerin had learned to be wary of his boss in recent days. 

"What," he growled.

"The King would like a report on how the hunt for the Thief is proceeding."

Dwalin let out a stream of curses, slamming in fist onto the table. The smallest crack appeared in the slab of stone and Gwerin jumped. Seeming to think better of being in this room at this moment, he scurried away to attend to matters elsewhere while his boss cooled down. 

Dwalin stood, shoving his chair back so that it struck the wall behind him. 

What was wrong with him? He hadn't acted like this since he was a child, petulant and moody when his parents wouldn't let him go to the sparring range with them or get an extra cookie from the market. What was it about this thief? Why was this one so elusive? Any other thief could be caught and caged within a fortnight at the most, and this one had been wandering free for nearly twice that time!

 _No other thief has ever disguised themselves as a visiting Lady just to nick an axe off a guard_ , he thought, rubbing his eyes and leaning on his desk, staring at the ever-empty folder in front of him. It still didn't make any sense.

It was like a new day dawned when the solution came to him. He snorted softly, unable to believe he hadn't thought of it earlier.

It was time to take a page out of the thief's book.

 

Dwalin had been to the undercity many times, of course- every guard had. But in all his brief visits, he had been passing through with a purpose, never pausing to really look at the things around him. Now he was here as a resident, trying to blend in and get by while he investigated any leads he might find, all while disguised as one of the undercity's own. He found it was not was he expected.

He wore the clothes of a sell-sword from the south, a wicked-looking helmet and a dirty piece of cloth covered most of his face. A skin colored powder he had found at the market had covered his most distinctive tattoos (which was, much to his chagrin, necessary). And once again he found himself without Grasper and Keeper. A spare sword from the armory rested heavily on his hip, making his gait feel crooked as it swung against his thigh with each step. He would never be as good with it as he was with his axes, but he could make do.

He walked through what might've been called the residential hall if they were in the true city, trying to find a secluded place to set up camp for the evening. In truth the place was what probably used to be the miner's barracks. Now, the structures were crumbling with disrepair, and the wide chamber was crowded with make-shift tents and lean-tos. It was filled with the flickering light of the little fires dotting the hall.

Fires were a dangerous, and obsolete method of lighting dwarven cities. Light crystals were cheap and easily acquired, but even cheap things still cost money and these people clearly didn't have any to spare. With the water laying stagnant since the crown had stoppered the pipes in an attempt to empty the undercity, what little money the inhabitants had was spent on acquiring drinkable water in whatever method they could- which didn't exclude much.

Dwalin could hardly fathom it. There was work for anyone in the upper city, he knew for a fact Thorin had always made sure of it. So why did these people choose to live in this place, where water may as well be gold and risking death by suffocation, or worse?

Dwalin was picking his way to the far side of the old barracks when something collided with his calf. He looked down to find a dwarfling, not yet past the age of ten, fumbling their little dish as they fell. Dwalin stooped down, placing them on their feet and their bowl in their hands. They looked up at him with wide eyes through a mop of dirty, blonde hair and ran as quickly as their little legs could carry them into the shelter of a nearby tent, hiding behind the leg of a particularly burly dwarf who was glaring at Dwalin suspiciously while cleaning a long, sharp knife. 

Dwalin walked on.

 _I'm here to find the Thief_ , he told himself as he settled down into one of the half-crumbled bunks in a dark corner. _And only that._ He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, listening to the conversation in the tent pressed closest to his little cubby.

"…and Hugar's daughter as well." 

"That's the third dwarf this week to disappear!" 

"Aye, that it is. Things are beginning to be mighty troubling 'round here. Very troubling, indeed."

The conversation ended and the light in the tent was extinguished, but Dwalin found himself unable to sleep for a long time after that.

 

Dwalin spent much more time in the undercity than he would've ever desired. He wasn't used to sneaking around and he didn't like it. He was exceedingly glad once he had a good, solid lead and he could get back to some _real_ guard's work.  

It happened one night when he had sat himself in the dark corner of what might be called a tavern in a different part of town, drinking, and listening. One particularly loud, drunk dwarf was regaling his friends with a tale from his recent endeavors in crime when something interesting came up.

"… then he just disappeared. Just," the dwarf, swaying slightly, flapped his hands in a gesture that was almost certainly meant to communicate something. "Gone! Poof! Just like that, no- no trace of 'im!" 

Dwalin smiled into his cup. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's fanon that Dwalin became captain of the guard or whatever you wanna call it later in life, but in canon, he's the ruler of the Blue Mountains by LotR, I think? And wouldn't that be sweet if Dwalin left a prestigious position to follow Thorin on the quest?
> 
> Nori will actually _be_ in the next chapter, as well as Ori and Dori! Be excited.


	3. Dwalin has a Very Confusing Day

It did not look like the house of a criminal, Dwalin reflected as he crouched in the darkened street outside the residence. 

It was a cosy looking little dwelling- a house of quaint but respectable size huddled in the intersection of two corridors. Warm, yellow light glowed in the windows through brightly colored curtains, and the smell of roasting meat drifted forth from the kitchen, where dinner was evidently being prepared. Dwalin's stomach rumbled, but he ignored it- work now, food later. 

This house seemed like any other house on the block, but this was where his leads had pointed him. His informants had been very clear, and very motivated. This had to be the one.

And so, Dwalin set aside his doubts, hoisting his sword and advancing on the front door. He kicked it open, snapping the flimsy lock off the wall as he charged in to a bright, warm living room. 

For all his (well buried) apprehension, the sight he was met with still caught him off guard.

To his right, a tiny, blonde dwarfling was perched on an overstuffed armchair chair by the fire. He was so small that his feet didn't even reach the edge of his seat. On his lap lay a pile of brightly colored balls of yarn, which he had been haphazardly twining into a scarf when Dwalin burst in. He squeaked, dropping his knitting needles in fright, to scared to take any action aside from starting at the warrior on the doorstep with wide, brown eyes.

But Dwalin was more concerned with what was on his left. 

In the kitchen, a curvy, prim looking dwarf with auburn hair had been merrily stirring a pot of stew, humming a wistful tune in a deep, warm voice. He stood still in shock for only a moment after Dwalin burst in before his sweet expression turned homicidal.

Dwalin would remember till the end of his days the sight of the fair dwarf charging towards him across the kitchen, frilly apron flapping in the wind and murder in his eyes, greasy ladle sweeping around in the sharpest right hook Dwalin had ever the had misfortune to experience.

When he came to, he was laying face up on a comfortably carpeted floor, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling decorated with yellow lighting crystals laid out against the blue stone like stars. 

The face of a little blonde dwarfling leaned over him, peering at him with an expression of morbid curiosity. "Is he going to die," the little one asked in that fascinated tone that only children can use when speaking of such things.

"I certainly hope he does! Would serve him right, scaring me so," a voice said in a decorous tone that didn't quite fit with the statement.

Dwalin tried to stand, and his head throbbed with the effort. Struggling to look down, he saw that someone had placed a tied heavy bunch of firewood on top of his chest, effectively preventing his escape.

"Get this off me," Dwalin growled, causing the little one- who hadn't noticed him waking- to jump back in fright. "You have no right to impede a Guard of the King in his work."

"Oh, a guard," the handsome dwarf crowed. "Tell me, what kind of 'guard of the king' breaks into the house of an honest dwarf, wearing the clothes of a sell-sword?" He paused to wave the ladle threateningly over Dwalin's face as his captive struggled. "Sounds like a pretty sad excuse for a cover story, if you ask me."

Dwalin cursed vehemently under his breath as he continued to thrash in vain against the logs. How could he have been such a fool as to charge into an unfamiliar house still in disguise? Had his information been good- and he had been so sure it was- the Thief would've known his face in spite of his clothing. He could've busted into their secluded den and swept them away in irons, and finally been done with this business. 

But instead he was trapped in the house of this obviously formidable dwarf, defeated with nothing but kitchenware, trapped until his own men could spare the time to come and pick him up.

"Why is his face so red, Dori," the dwarfling asked. "Is he going to explode?"

"I hope so!"

"Who's this," a nasally, familiar voice inquired from somewhere out of Dwalin's line of vision. 

Dwalin froze as the Thief leaned over the log pile to get a look at the face of his brother's prisoner. Blue eyes met green and the air seemed to freeze. The Thief stared down at Dori's captive, his face falling.

"You," Dwalin spat, resuming his struggling with a new fervor.

The handsome dwarf- Dori, the other had called him- looked between the newcomer and the thrashing dwarf on the floor. "Care to introduce us, Nori," he asked lightly, but even Dwalin couldn't mistake the hardness behind his tone. "He claims to be a one of the King's Guard."

All was quiet for a moment as Nori stared down at their prisoner, desperation creeping into his countenance. "He is," finally came the quiet confirmation.

Dori gasped in terror, fumbling his weapon before regaining a hold on his rage. "You swore," he hissed at his brother, deadly and slow.

Nori looked over at his brother with wide eyes. "I'm so sorry, Dori."

"It was all I ever asked of you- all I ever wanted in return… for keeping you in this house against my better judgement. Do you know what you've done? Don't you know what this will mean for me- for Ori?"

Nori flinched back as though the words were a physical blow. The little blond dwarf started to cry.

Dwalin was confused, but he pushed it aside. He didn't need to understand who these dwarves were, or why they were housing this thief willingly. That could be dealt with later. All he needed to do was bring the Thief to Thorin. Politics were not his job. There was no room for doubt in the work of a guardsman.

"This dwarf is a criminal," Dwalin roared. "And a suspect in the attempted assassination of King Thorin! Now, get this wood off of me!"

The brothers looked down at the struggling guard as though they had forgotten he was there. The full meaning of the words dawned on them and Dori's face, if possible, became even redder. 

Nori's panic, however, turned to calculation. He stooped down to cradle the crying Ori in his arms, stroking the young one's hair as he stared down at Dwalin contemplatively.

"Assassination," Dori whispered, ignoring Dwalin's demand. "My brother would never…"

"Let him up, Dori," the Thief interrupted. "Give him some dinner."

Dori and Dwalin both gaped at him in matching disbelief.

"Trust me, Dori," the Thief implored.

Dori gave a short laugh. "Trust," he hissed. "That's what you asked for when I told you to make sure they never found you here."

Dori glared at Nori and Nori stared back, his expression steadfast and sure in spite of his brother's anger and his earlier panic.

Dwalin growled incoherently on the floor, waiting impatiently for them to let him up.

Finally, Dori sighed, whispering word of solemn prayer before lifting the heavy set of logs off Dwalin's chest with astoundingly little effort.

Dwalin was up like a shot, ignoring the fact the room was spinning around him as he pushed himself off the ground, his hand already grasping his sword where it hung at his side in its sheath. The thief merely handed the little one over to his elder brother. 

He stood before Dwalin barehanded, looking not afraid but slightly curious- a smug sneer passing over is face as if he knew something Dwalin did not. His mane of red hair was loose around him, still damp from the bath he had evidently been taking when Dwalin had arrived. He took a deep breath, and looked up into Dwalin's eyes from beneath his brows. 

"I did not try to assassinate the king," the he said, breaking the tense silence. "But I can tell you who did."

 

And that was how Dwalin found himself seated at a dinner table, eating a bowl of the best stew he had ever tasted. It lived up to its aroma and more. Despite his suspicion of the situation, he could not help but enjoy each cautious bite as he glared at the Thief from across the table. 

Nori pretended to pay him no mind, enjoying his own bowl of stew, and occasionally tending to the youngest brother when soup dribbled down his chin from a poorly aimed spoonful. But Dwalin could not mistake the tension in his shoulders or the tightness of his lips. The Thief had been caught off guard. He may be acting as though he has the upper hand, but it's Dwalin who holds all the cards.

Ori was oblivious to the tension around the table, seemingly just happy that no one was yelling anymore. He shot Dwalin more than a few curious looks as he ate. Once or twice he opened his mouth to speak, only to shut it again, blushing and hiding behind his bowl.

Dori had long since given up glancing between his brother and their guest over his own dinner. Instead he was aggressively cleaning dishes in the nearby kitchen, muttering none-too-quietly to himself about untrustworthy brothers and mad guards.

The meal was nearly over by the time dwarfling finally worked up the courage to speak. 

"Are you a good guardsman, or a bad one," Ori inquired softly, peering over the edge of the table at Dwalin. He was perched in a chair which was much too large for him, as he had insisted on using the 'adult seat' when they had all sat down.

Dwalin considered the question for a moment before replying. "A good one," he said. 

The Thief muttered something under his breath and it was all Dwalin could do to keep from throwing himself across the table and arresting him then and there.

"Oh, good," the little declared, standing up in his chair so as to have a better view of their guest. "Have you had many adventures? I've always wanted to go on an adventure, but Dori says I'm not old enough."

"You'll never be old enough," Dori called from the kitchen.

Dwalin merely nodded and Ori's face lit up. "Can you tell me a story," he whined, clasping his hands together in front of his chest and widening his brown eyes pleadingly. 

Nori stifled a laugh at Dwalin's caught expression, but grabbed the little one by the waist and hoisted him over his shoulder, eliciting a wave of giggles. "Oh no, you're not going to keep Mister Good Guard here all night begging him for stories. We have business to discuss. Off to the bath with you."

The dwarfling pouted but obeyed. Dori emerged from the kitchen, hurrying Ori down the hall. He shot a concerned glance over his shoulder at the guard and his brother, but said nothing as he directed his youngest brother into the bathroom.

The sound of a door clicking shut down the hall left the two alone, glaring at each other across the table over their empty bowls.

"The dwarf you're looking for calls himself the _Nasasâl_ ," Nori began suddenly, a steel to his voice which had not been there when he was speaking with his brothers. His eyes glinted like hard stones under his bushy brows as he glared at Dwalin across the table, propping his feet up on a spare chair and crossing his arms behind his head.

If Dwalin was thrown by his change in demeanor, he didn't show it. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair as he motioned for the Thief to continue.

"He's a fanatic. He speaks out openly against the rule of the king, which has gained him quite the following in the undercity. Claims to have a plan for getting rid of him, and to get justice for the those who the king has wronged."

Dwalin clenched his fists, grinding his teeth in displeasure as he listened. How dare this _sigm rukhas_ question the rule of his king? No one had earned the right to rule more thoroughly than Thorin, and Dwalin would gladly cut down anyone who believed otherwise. How had he not heard about this before?

The Thief observed Dwalin's irritation and smirked again. "I know your reputation, Hound." Dwalin growled at the use of the nickname which the residents of the undercity used in reference to guards, but Nori ignored him. 

"I know what I'm asking you to do when I ask you to trust me. I'm no better than a rat to you." He paused, unclasping his hands from behind his head and leaning across the table towards Dwalin. "But I also know that you will accept my help. Do you want to know why?"

Dwalin merely glared, so Nori continued.

"You'll do anything to protect your king, and trusting me is your only option."

 

By the time Dwalin left it was late in the evening. The street outside was dark and empty, his feet were the only noise as he made his way back down the corridor towards home. 

His head was absolutely spinning. He had come here to arrest a thief. Now he was marching home empty handed and confused, his belly full of food from a theif's table and his eyelids drooping from so many days spent undercover.

The Thief had directed Dwalin to meet him in the undercity at Fountain Square a week from now, to attend a rally that this ' _Nasasâl_ ' was holding. They needed to gather intel before they could come up with a real plan to catch him. 

Dwalin didn't know what to think about all that. But the thief was right about one thing. Dwalin would do anything to protect Thorin, even team up with a thief.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nasasâl means savior.


End file.
